


Whumptober 2020

by UnderwhelmingAlchemist



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Knives, M/M, Not Beta Read, Whumptober 2020, or proofread, wrote in an hour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderwhelmingAlchemist/pseuds/UnderwhelmingAlchemist
Summary: A collection of Whumptober fics. The first one contains a major character death, so read with cautionThe prompts:https://whumptober2020.tumblr.com/post/628055505485561856/whumptober-2020-updated
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Prompt 1 - Waking Up Restrained

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky wakes up handcuffed to a bed and can't remember why. Until it hits him all at once. Major character death. Angst. I wrote this instead of doing homework because oh boy do I have emotions.

Bucky woke up as he normally did, slowly, blinking at the light around him. He was in a sort of weird position, but he woke up in plenty of weird positions. It wasn’t until he went to stretch that he realized something was wrong. 

His wrist stopped at a certain point. He pulled, only to have metal dig into his wrist. He frowned, tugging a little harder, then harder, only to find that the handcuffs didn’t break. That was when he began to panic. He reached up his free hand, pulling harder and trying desperately to break out of the restraints, all to no avail. 

“James.”

The voice was familiar and helped cut through the fog of panic a little. He looked over to the corner where Natasha stood, scrambling to sit up. It left his arm at an awkward angle, but the comfort of his appendages was the least of his concerns right then. 

“Nat? What happened?”

“You killed Steve.”

“I… I what?”

“You woke up, grabbed a knife, and...” Natasha paused. “Steve is dead.”

Bucky felt the wave of memories wash over him all at once. It was hazy, but he could vaguely recall the nightmare that started it.

It had been something about his brainwashing. He’d woken up in pain and with his mind covered in a strange fog. He had no idea where he was or who he was. He’d seen the man in bed with him and recognized him only as a target. 

In lightning fast motions, he’d grabbed the knife on the nightstand, moved so he was on top of the man, and slashed. 

Steve’s eyes had opened. He’d choked out something that sounded like it could’ve been Bucky’s name. 

The door had burst open then. There was the faint sound of sirens, and a man’s voice announced over the speakers that they “were going into level three lockdown”. Steve was gripping his wrist, struggling to get words out. He barely managed to make out, “Not your fault” and “Bucky”.

Whoever entered the room immediately wrapped an arm around his neck from behind, and he started trying to pry their arm away with no success. Soon everything started to go black. But that was okay. His mission was completed. After a minute or two without breath, he collapsed onto the bed.

Bucky’s chest was heaving. He looked down at himself, noticing for the first time that he was covered in blood. The bed wasn’t the one he shared with Steve. They’d moved him to a room that looked hospitable enough but was probably as high security as it came. He was still in his pyjamas. 

“I killed Steve,” he said in a voice devoid of emotion. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet. 

“You did.” Natasha’s voice was cold. He couldn’t blame her.

The realization hit him all at once, and suddenly, his eyes were filled with tears, and he was choking back sobs. He’d killed Steve. The man he loved. The man who’d cared for him and taken him back into his life and made him feel human again. He was dead and it was his fault.

A hand of pain gripped Bucky’s heart, and he grabbed at the sheets with his free hand. Steve was dead. Steve was dead. Steve was dead and it was his fault.

“Not your fault.” Those had been Steve’s last words. But Steve wouldn’t blame Bucky for anything, not even his own death. 

A choked sob escaped him, and he brought his knees up to his chest. He’d killed Steve Rogers.

“They’ll be transferring you to the Raft soon enough.” Natasha walked closer, studying the broken man that sat before her. When he didn’t respond, she sighed, glancing at the camera in the corner before looking back to him. “What happened, James?”

“It was just a nightmare. A stupid nightmare,” he said, his voice coming out choked and thick. “I kept this knife on the nightstand, it was stupid but it made me feel safe…”

“We’re going to get you a good layw-”

“No.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No. I did this. Whatever they do to me I deserve.”

“And if they try to give you the death penalty?”

Bucky considered the possibility. It was hard to care right then. He just rested his forehead on his knees, wrapping his free arm around his knees. “So what?”

A voice came over the speakers in the room. “Ms. Romanoff, your time is up.”

“Good luck, James.” She gave him one last long look before heading to the door. It opened for her, then promptly closed behind her, leaving Bucky alone in the empty room. 

And for the first time in a long time, he was truly alone.


	2. In The Hands of the Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !Major character death! Steve wakes up in a cell and is presented with two things: a gun and a choice.

When Steve opened his eyes, he was greeted with the wonderful view of the walls of a cell. He was aching all over. A sharp pain in his chest reminded him of the broken ribs he had sustained, and how they’d most likely healed improperly. Great. 

The mission had been going fine, until it suddenly wasn’t. They should’ve known that the leaked information was too good to be true. A HYDRA base, weakened by a lack of agents, should’ve been an easy target. They’d assigned Bucky, Tony, and Steve to take it out. Bucky because he knew HYDRA bases well, having spent extensive amounts of time in quite a few. Tony to recover any information that was on any computers that they might have. Steve for brute force.

Of course it had been a trap. And now Steve was lying in a cell, beaten and bruised. He wondered what had happened to Bucky and Tony. 

“Captain Rogers.” 

Steve jumped slightly as he heard the disembodied voice, then winced as the motion sent a pang of pain through him starting from his ribs. “Where am I?”

“You’re exactly where you need to be.” He could hear the sneer in the voice’s tone.

“Where are Bucky and Tony?” 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d ask that.”

With that, the wall he was leaning against pulled away, revealing a pane of glass. Behind it sat Bucky and Tony. Both were slumped against the wall, hands chained behind them and feet similarly bound. They had on what looked like muzzles, most likely to keep them from talking to each other. 

Steve immediately stumbled to his feet, pressing his hand against the glass. He pounded on the surface, calling out Bucky and Tony’s name a few times. The voice allowed him to do this a couple times, just long enough for him to register that they weren’t responding. 

“They can’t see or hear you, Steven.”

“What the hell are you trying to do here?” Steve demanded. 

As if answering his question, a small door at the bottom of the door to his cell opened, and a gun was slid under the door. Steve looked at it, then looked up at the camera in the corner. 

“And what do you expect me to do with this?”

“You’re going to shoot one of them.”

Steve gave the camera a look like whoever was behind it was out of their mind. They must be. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else all three of you die.”

Steve frowned, then asked the obvious question. “Why do this? Why not just kill all three of us anyway?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” the voice chuckled. “Now, Steven. Pick up the gun.”

Steve stared at the handgun for a moment, considering what the voice said. Pick up the gun and shoot one of the two through the glass. Or else all three of them died. He looked over at the two of them, bound and gagged, clearly conscious. He could see the fear in Tony’s eyes, the mixture of resignation and regret in Bucky’s. 

He picked up the gun. 

After a long moment’s consideration, he cocked the gun and put it to his own temple.

“I wouldn’t do that, Steven.”

“And why not?”

“Shoot yourself, both of them die anyway. It would be a truly valiant sacrifice, but one that I’m afraid would be in vain.”

Steve lowered the gun.

“You have two minutes to make a decision.” A timer appeared in the corner of the glass, 

Two minutes. He had two minutes to choose between two of the best friends he’d ever had. 

On one hand, he had Tony. He’d gotten off to a rocky start with him at first. They’d bickered nonstop for the first week or so that they’d known each other. Then slowly the bickering turned to sarcastic banter, then gained a hint of fondness. They’d grown to tolerate each other, then even like each other. 

Over the years with every new battle, they grew closer, eventually becoming close friends. Tony had been a big part of his transition to the twenty-first century. He’d taught him about technology and modern trends and Twitter. He’d been there for him on sleepless nights, making decaf coffee at three AM and sitting at the table in the tower’s communal kitchen with him, talking about anything and everything until they ended up getting to the topic of the nightmares or anxieties that were keeping them awake. He owed him so damn much. 

On the other hand, there was Bucky. Bucky, who he’d known all his life. The only remainder of his past. The one person that had survived with him. Not a relic or object or knick-nack that had weathered the test of time, but a real, living person who knew exactly what he’d been through. 

Bucky had been his only friend in childhood. He’d dragged him out of fights and patched him up. He’d taken him on double dates. He’d curled up around him on cold nights and kept him warm when the cold might very well have killed him. He’d fought by his side and taken out enemies that might have very well been the end of Captain America.

He owed Bucky his life. But he owed Tony that too, given how many times he’d saved him in battle.

Bucky was his past, Tony was his present. Both he held dear, and neither of which he wanted to sacrifice. 

The timer beeped. “30” it said in bright red letter. “29”. “28”.

Steve raised the gun. His hands were shaking. His hands never shook. His heart was pounding, and his blood was rushing in his ears. 

“25”. “24”. “23”. 

He didn’t want to do it. He couldn’t do it. 

“19”. “18”. “17”. 

Bucky looked up. He could see the look on his face. He was tired. So tired. But he was alive. And god, he was all Steve had left of his past. 

Even though Bucky couldn’t see him, he somehow managed to meet his eyes through the one-way glass. He wondered if he could see his outline through what was most likely a mirror on his side.

“5”. “4”. “3”.

“I’m sorry.” 

He aimed the gun, then pulled the trigger. 

For a long moment, he stared at hole in the glass, and the blood coating the wall. 

Tony lay slumped against the wall, face frozen in an expression of fear. Bucky looked to his body, then immediately started struggling against his restraints. The restraints and the muzzle release automatically as he pulled. 

Steve sunk to the floor, his knees no longer able to hold him up. “You promised you’d let us go,” he said, his voice shaking. “You promised.”

“I promised no such thing.”

Steve’s face twisted into a look of rage. “You-”

“At ease, Captain. Your friends will be here in one hour.”

“Steve? Steve is that you?” Bucky’s voice called out. Shit. He could hear him through the hole in the glass. Which meant he knew he was on the other side. Which meant he most likely knew exactly what he’d done. 

“Yeah. Yeah, Buck. It’s me.” 

“Steve, what the hell happened? Tony’s dead, and-”

“I know.”

“What?”

“I know.”

“Have a nice day, Captain.”

“Steve? Steve, who’s that? What’s going on.”

Steve stayed silent. His throat was tight, and he wasn’t sure if he could form words even if he wanted to. 

“Steve?”


End file.
